Mickey slowly raised his arms in surrender, dropping his gun to the floor. "Let's not get carried away here."
"Shut up," the man spat angrily. He grabbed Mickey from the back of his shirt and pulled him away from the trapdoor, throwing him to the floor. Dust spread in the air from under Mickey when he hit the ground, scratching up his hands. But he paid no attention to that, he only watched as the man reached into the trapdoor and pulled Ian out and onto the floor. He freed Ian's mouth from the bandana and aimed the gun to the back of his head while forcing the redhead down on his knees ahead of Mickey. "Last words, Red?"
Ian stared straight at Mickey with teary eyes and his eyebrows creased painfully. He turned his head to the darkening sky and sighed, shuddering as he sniffled. Mickey made to reach forward, tell him it's all going to be okay, but the man cocked his gun towards Mickey with a scowl. "Back up or I blow your brains out."
"Okay, okay," Mickey's words were jumbled as he held his arms up again, showing his surrender. He thought of a way out, looking around and wondering where the fuck the cops were. "Just- just calm down, alright? Fuck..."
The man had Ian by the back of his collar while the gun switched between the two of them. He cocked his head towards the house. "Whose in there?"
"My brother and sisters," Mickey replied quickly, not wanting to mention the cops. He swallowed, not knowing if he should or not because if the guy finds out he's lying he'll probably kill them both, but if he tells him the truth right now he'll still probably kill them both. "Where's Terry?"
"I ask the questions," the man growled. He shifted his eyes to the house and bit his lip, he was nervous. Mickey clenched his hands into fists. "Get up."
Mickey didn't move. The man pressed the gun harder into the back of Ian's head, probably bruising the area. Ian's cry emphasized that point. Mickey scrambled up at that, wanting nothing more than to take the gun and shoot the guy until there was nothing left of him. The man yanked Ian onto his feet, which didn't last since the bullet wound from before in Ian's leg must've gotten fucked up from all the pulling and pushing, and Ian fell back to the floor like a rag doll and cried exhaustedly. Mickey heart clenched as he gave pleading eyes to the man who was too busy staring at the blood starting to leak from Ian's wound. He looked up at Mickey. "Pick him up."
Mickey lunged forward and helped Ian to his feet, letting him lean his whole weight on Mickey. "Hey, hey. It's okay, Ian," he whispered in Ian's ear secretly, not letting the man see. "I'm here. I'm gonna get us out of this, okay?"
Ian nodded wryly, his arm curling around Mickey's waist. The man pressed the gun to Mickey's lower back. "Walk."
Mickey moved forward at a slow pace, Ian limping and whimpering next to him. He glanced at the house, swearing inwardly at his luck. How are none of them fucking looking for him? They can't all be caught. At least someone should be OK.
"Go down to the lake," the man instructed, nudging the gun towards where there was a dip in the hill leading down to the water. Mickey began walking towards the stream of water, shoulders tensing when the man stayed behind. If he goes around and sees the cop cars, Mickey will be done. Over. Dead.
There was a dock at the lake which Mickey assumed the guy wanted him to go on. But his mind was so shook that he couldn't help turning his head to see what the man was doing. Before he could even turn his head he felt something nudge into his hip, moving his attention down between him and Ian. He looked down to see Ian holding the gun Mickey had before. Mickey's breath caught in his throat as he met Ian's eyes. "You tryna get us fucking killed, Ian?"
Ian grunted and rolled his eyes. "Either way someone probably fucking dies, Mickey. I'd be happy to kill that son a bitch if you don't."
"Why the fuck did you stop?!" The man yelled, startling the two. Mickey whipped his head around, eyes wide as he mustered through words. The man was hurrying towards them with a deadly scowl on his face. Mickey's hand was pushing at Ian's, trying to get him to hide the gun back in his pants. "What the fuck is going on, huh?"
"He needed to take a fucking breather, alright?" Mickey snapped, which seemed to trigger the man who suddenly seemed angrier than before and pointed his gun up at Mickey.
"Watch your fucking mouth with me, faggot!" He yelled, yanking Ian by his arm causing him to stumble and fall. The gun dropped down between the three of them, all of them gawking at it. The man seethed, narrowing his eyes at Mickey and raising his gun. "You fucking-"
Three gunshots rang through the air, all milliseconds apart before the man fell to the ground with two bullets to his chest and one to his head. Mickey's mouth fell open at the amount of blood but he took the chance to quickly grab Ian back onto his feet before he looked up to see Larkin aiming right at where the man was. Larkin glanced at Mickey and Ian. "You boys alright?"
"Took you long enough," Mickey said while Ian mumbled a 'thank god' under his breath. He guided Ian towards Larkin. "The fuck were you? And all the others?"
"We found Colin Milkovich in the basement half - unconscious with a bullet wound in his arm," Larkin informed. "He's loosing a lot of blood."
Mickey began walking to the house. He yelled over his shoulder, "So in other words, you assholes forgot about me?"
Larkin shrugged, "Yeah."
Mickey disappeared into the house. Larkin turned to Ian with his hands on his hips. "Ian Gallagher?" Ian nodded, hand clutching his leg. "I'm Officer Larkin. You alright?"
"I think my stitches reopened," Ian groaned.
Larkin glanced down at Ian's thigh. "Let's fix that up, then."
-
-
-
-
"So, anything you can tell me about where Terry and the others are?" Larkin asked while taking his first aid kit out of his police car. Ian was on the hood of the car with his jeans at his knees, clutching the bullet wound from the other day that was starting to reopen and bleed intensely.
"All I know is that they locked me up in that fucking shed and tortured Iggy in front of Colin. God, I hope Iggy's OK."
Larkin nodded and bent down to inspect the wound. "Shit, the bullet went right through your fucking leg."
Ian sighed and looked up at the sky, awaiting the pain. "If I had a dollar for everytime someone said that."
Larkin pulled the string from the first aid kit, a needle and scissors. "This wi-"
"Hurt, I know." Ian squeezed his eyes shut.
Larkin slid the needle into Ian's skin and pulled it, making him hiss. "So," Larkin decided to make conversation to take Ian's mind off the pain. "You and Mickey, huh?"
Ian grunted, "He doesn't want to talk about it."
"Do you?" Larkin asked quickly, finishing one stitch.
Ian peeked one eye open to glance at Larkin interestedly. "I don't know. What's there to talk about?"
Larkin shrugged, closing another stitch. "I don't know, maybe that your boyfriend is homophobic."
Ian didn't say anything. Larkin peered up at the red haired boy. "He is your boyfriend, right?"
Ian shrugged. "Who cares? Doesn't matter anyway. I don't think he really likes me, you know? I feel like he's just confused and thinks he does."
Larkin snorted. "Kid, are you kidding me? I've never seen someone so worried about another person in my life, and I'm a cop. I've seen my fair share down here. I think he likes you, maybe too much for his own good."
Ian's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really." Larkin pulled the last stitch before cutting it. "You're all done."
"Wait," Ian said before Larkin could walk off. He pulled his pants back up and closed the belt. "I heard Mickey talking to his brothers yesterday. Is it true that you know who stabbed Mickey?"
"We need Mickey's help to identify the person and allow us to reopen the case, without that we can't do anything even if we have a lead."
"I can identify him."
"It would be best if Mickey came. The stabbing was related to him after all."
"Yeah, but I know pretty much all the people that Mickey knows."
Larkin sighed and put his hand on Ian's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "I think there's a lot you don't know about Mickey Milkovich. There's just somethings he has kept to himself."
Ian watched as Larkin walked off into the house. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked to side, before pushing off the car and limping inside the house.
When he got to the basement he saw Mickey smoking a cigarette while looking down at Colin who was being questioned by the cops with Mandy rubbing his shoulder soothingly. Ian stood beside Mickey, keeping a little bit of space and once again putting his hands nervously in his pockets. "What's up?"
"Currently, a whole fucking lot," Mickey replied sassily, just like himself. It made Ian smile a little. Mickey side eyed Ian and sighed, moving closer until their elbows were pressed together. It made Ian smile bigger. Mickey played it off by handing the cigarette to Ian. "Colin's traumatized, which nobody fucking expected, and he's trying to remember where Terry might've taken Iggy."
Ian nodded and exhaled the smoke from his mouth. He handed the cigarette back to Mickey and gave him a soft smile. "Let's go upstairs. You know, while Colin thinks."
Mickey laughed nervously, "C'mon man, maybe another day alright? When I'm not looking for my psychotic father-"
"I don't mean to fuck, Mickey," Ian rolled his eyes. "To get your mind off things for a while." Ian looked down at his wounded thigh and shrugged. "Plus, I don't think I could fuck anyway. Would probably hurt too much."
Mickey looked at Ian's leg and frowned. "That sucks for me."
"That reminds me, blow jobs," Ian pointed out as they started walking upstairs. Mickey laughed and punched Ian's shoulder, letting his hand rest there. "There's gonna be a lot of sucking on your part."
"Fuck off," Mickey chuckled. "What about riding?"
"Oh my god, your ass will be right on my stitches the whole time, no thanks," Ian snorted.
"So what, its not worth it?"
Ian turned his head and smiled at Mickey fondly. "We'll just have to find out."
Mickey raised his eyebrows in that cute curious way that made Ian want to stare at him forever. He walked towards a window and stared out at the cars, pulling another cigarette out and lighting it. Ian joined him, leaning against the windowsill. "You alright, Mickey?"
Mickey shrugged. "Whate-"
"No, Mickey. I mean it, you can tell me," Ian smiled reassuringly.
"I don't know, let me fucking think about it Gallagher, oh yeah, my brother's with my crazy dad who kidnapped him who also shot my other brother and stabbed my other brother and shot you and is hunting me down so you know, I don't think I'm alright," Mickey sneered sarcastically.
Ian just watched Mickey with his head leaned against the window and fond oozing out of him. "Kept thinking about you, you know, when I was locked in there."
Mickey glanced up at Ian and looked away quickly, taking a long drag of the cigarette. Ian moved closer, putting one of his hands on Mickey's left hip. "I knew you would come save me. I didn't doubt it for a second. Each minute I knew I was closer to seeing you again."
Mickey said nothing. Ian was so close now that his breath was hitting Mickey's cheek. He took the cigarette out of Mickey's hand and stubbed it on the windowsill. He rubbed his hand down Mickey's back, making the elder lean into the touch. He pressed a soft kiss to Mickey's cheek. "You're a hero, Mickey Milkovich. My hero. Thank you."
Mickey's hand trailed to the one Ian had on his waist and he gripped the red haired boy's hand. "For what?"
Ian nosed Mickey's cheek and breathed in his wonderful scent. "Saving me."
"I'm not fucking Hercules, man," Mickey gave a small smile, closing his eyes.
"I missed you, Mickey."
Mickey glanced up at Ian, their damn height difference, with eyes so sincere it made Ian's heart clench. He placed both his hands on Ian's cheeks and leaned forward, leaving the softest kiss neither boy had ever received or given in their lives. When they moved away their breaths still hit each other's mouths, and for some reason Ian found himself more aroused than ever. He pressed Mickey against the window and kissed him hard, with tongue and defiance. Their bodies pressed together as they gripped at each other. Ian's hand came up to Mickey's face and clutched the beard the boy was currently sporting.
"Fuck, this beard, Mickey," Ian breathed, leaving kisses down Mickey's neck. Mickey whimpered, grabbing at Ian's shirt. "So hot."
"Thought we weren't gonna fuck," Mickey replied just as breathlessly, Ian sucking a hickey into his neck. Ian's long fingers wrapped around Mickey's wrists and pulled them off his waist slowly, his teeth biting Mickey's bottom lip.
"We aren't," he smiled at Mickey and moved away, grazing his hand against his crotch as he did.
Mickey rolled his eyes. "Fucking cockblock. The fuck was that about anyway?"
Ian shrugged and took his place back against the window. "I like your beard." He chuckled when Mickey looked at him with an annoyed expression and arms crossed. "Jeez, you get so cranky when you're horny."
Mickey rubbed his eyes and looked out of the window. His eyes just caught site of a figure dashing through the trees and he tensed. "Fuck was that?"
"Did you see someone?" Ian asked. Mickey nodded.
"We gotta check the forest," he looked up at Ian with wide eyes. "Get everyone together. I'll find Larkin."
Ian nodded and rushed downstairs while Mickey went upstairs where he knew Larkin was. He found him talking on the phone.
"Send in an ambulance. One man was shot down so far- yes, so far. We haven't found Iggy Milkovich but we might get a lead from the brother or Gallagher. Oh and inform the Gallagher family of their brother, tell them he's alright."
Larkin hung up and turned around, furrowing his eyebrows at Mickey. "I just called in an ambulance and more backup. Something wrong?"
Mickey's head was starting to pound painfully again. It seemed whenever Ian wasn't there a mountain of stress dropped itself on Mickey's shoulders. He rubbed his eyes again.
"I saw someone in the forest. We should check it," he replied to Larkin, who nodded.
"Alright, gather everyone. I don't want this search ending until we find Iggy and have Terry in handcuffs."
"I'm going to kill him."
Larkin froze, stopping at the door of the room he was about to leave. He turned to look at Mickey as if he was crazy. "No. We're going to do this the right way."
"The right way is he dies," Mickey bit out, eyes hard and unforgiving. "I'm not talking about it. It's the only option."
Before Larkin could say anything Mickey was already heading downstairs. Larkin glanced up at the ceiling and said a prayer before following behind.
-
-
-
-
-
-
"You hear or see anything, give a call on your phone or verbally," Larkin instructed to the group of cops, Gallagher's and Milkovich's. He looked at Ian. "Son, I think you should head home to your family."
"No," Ian said in a tone that was inarguable. "My family is here too."
Mickey had to hide his smile in his shirt as he looked down at his feet.
Larkin sighed but nodded then he headed into the forest. "Be safe, everybody."
Ian, Mickey, Lip, Colin, Jamie and Larkin were set into a group. All the groups had one cop in them at least. Emri and Mandy were in another group. They all had guns in their hands, despite the looks from the cops, they had bigger matters on their hands.
"You don't remember anything?" Mickey asked Colin for the third time as they searched.
"I don't remember anything that could help us find out where that son a bitch took Iggy," Colin replied for the third time.
"Who the fuck is that?" Lip shouted in a whisper, clutching his gun. They all peered down toward where the teen was aiming and gawked at a man who was rushing towards the outer end of the forest where the lake was. They all followed closely, being careful not to crunch any sticks or leaves underneath them as they walked.
Finally they stepped out of the forest and onto a sandy area ahead of the lake where there was another dock similar to the one back at the house. But the most important part was the men all littered around with guns in their hands and in the middle of them all, with a huge shit-eating grin was the one and only Terry Milkovich. Mickey felt himself rage inside at the look on that bastard's face as he started up at the group. "About fucking time."
Colin's hand was twitching around the gun he held. Jamie was subconsciously touching the bandage of his eyepatch. Ian hand lingered over his upper thigh where the bullet was. Mickey grazed his abdomen, right over the scar. Terry chuckled. "Looks like I've just about fucked over almost all of ya. Expect the pig and the older Gallagher kid. But there's a time for everything."
Colin raised his gun and pointed it at Terry, causing all the men around Terry to point at him. Terry didn't move an inch, but he also had a pistol in his hand that he didn't seem to need the use of. He walked to a car and pulled the trunk open, yanking Iggy out of there and throwing him to the sandy ground. Mickey felt like throwing up at the condition his brother was in, basically beat to a pulp but there seemed to be no signs of bullet wounds or anything too severe. "You want your brother over here? Come get him."
Mickey swallowed his pride and stepped forward. "This is between you and me, Terry. Why the fuck you bringing everyone else into this?"
Terry's eyes hardened. "I'm showing you how your faggot ass affects everyone around you. You embarrassed me, you sack of shit. Everything I ever fuckin' taught you was a waste!"
"Taught me? Hold up, you taught me? Are you out of your mind?" Mickey laughed unbelievably. "You never did anything for me, you piece of old shit! Colin taught me, Jamie taught me, hell even Maria gave more of a shit about me than you ever did!"
Terry scoffed, obviously loosing his guard. Mickey began walking forward, his face hard and cold. "Don't put your shit on us, Terry. You know you're the shittiest fucking father anyone could ever have and it's hitting you now. Not because I'm a fag, or because I learned nothing, but because you are starting to realize that you were the worst fucking person in the world all your life and this is the way your psychotic ass tries to change that. You want to get rid of us so you don't have to live with that guilt of seeing our faces everyday and knowing that it's your fault we're like this.
"But we are not you, Terry. We aren't fucking crazy and psychotic enough to ruin someone's life as bad as you did. This is my family. Yeah, it's a little broken and rusty, but we can change that. You, you will never be apart of us. You never have. There isn't a day that has passed since I was fucking born that I didn't hate you. I know you think you did so fucking well raising us as shitty Southside robbers and murderers but that is not who we are. We are more than that. Just because we start here doesn't mean we end up here." Mickey pressed his gun against Terry's forehead, watching the man's slack jawed stare. All the guns from the other men were pointed at Mickey now, but none of them shot. "Now look me in the fucking eye and tell me how much of a piece of shit you are before I blow your fucking brains all over the water, you cocksucking cunt son of a bitch."